Embrace of a Ghost
by Kalli13
Summary: Quatre has more problems then he lets on...


Embrace of a Ghost  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em. I will return them  
intact (more or less). No profit being made,   
yada yada yada...  
  
Warning: Shounen-ai, OOC in general, though I   
think he's in character. Strange.   
  
Notes: Erm. I've always suspected Quatre to   
be /very/ unstable. No offense to Q fans, k?   
  
/.../ are thoughts.   
"..." is dialogue.   
  
  
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A small blond boy stood in front of a mirror over a   
mildewed bathroom sink. His breath came in shakily   
through his teeth, and his hands gripped the sink   
like a vice, his hair hung limp over his angelically   
pale skin.   
  
/What am I doing? Who am I kidding, really? It's so   
cold here, so unlike home... And no one can comfort me...   
Iria... It's even worse... I can't... I don't understand   
why... Why can't I understand? Why do you still haunt me...?/  
  
His breathing grew heavier, his knuckles white as new snow,   
even against his cream-like flesh.   
  
His eyes wandered to the thin scars near his wrist. /I'm such   
a coward. Running from myself.../ The Arabian pilot sank slowly   
to his knees, and then leaned back against the dingy gray   
wall. His butter-colored locks were plastered to his skull  
with cold sweat, gleaming dimly in the flickering electric   
lighting. His sky-blue eyes were darkened with despair, dusky   
with his loss of hope. He stared fixedly at the blank wall in   
front of him.   
  
/Duo... dark... paradox. Trowa... heart.../ Quatre stood   
up, pushing his body off the floor with still-shaky hands.   
He groped for the door, turning once more to look at the   
mirror before leaving the room. It seemed like his father's   
judging face lingered there. /Damn him. The only person   
whose acceptance I ever needed./ He shook his head, trying   
to steady his thoughts. Damning a dead man. How pathetic.   
  
He noticed sound, Duo and Heero had returned. He wondered   
if Trowa was there, it's not like he would have heard.   
Quatre absently straightened his shirt, plucked at his   
wrinkled pants. He ran a hand through his hair, and tried   
to work up a caring smile. /They might be hurt.   
Someone needs to play mother for us all, it might   
as well be me./  
  
The Sandrock pilot walked briskly down the stairs,   
beating off his waning mood. Duo had returned, in   
fact, and was clamoring around in the kitchen. Quatre's   
eyes widened, and he ran to help Duo with a meal. They didn't   
want to burn down another safehouse, after all.   
  
Duo grinned lazily when he saw Quatre. "Hey, Q-bear. Ya aight?"  
  
"Hai, are you?"   
  
"Always, my man. I think Heero's beaten up though, ya might   
wanna check on him. I tried to patch him up, but..." Duo   
smirked. "You know Heero."  
  
"Right...Um Duo, why don't you get out some... silverware?"  
Quatre hurried off without a response.   
  
"Hey! I'm not that bad of a cook!" The American shrugged.  
"Whatever."   
  
"Heero? Daijoubo desu ka?" Quatre asked worriedly,   
his brow furrowed.   
  
"Hai," Heero snorted. The Japanese pilot's face   
was like stone.   
  
Quatre's eyebrow twitched slightly. "Heero, there are   
several severe lacerations all over your torso, and   
a bullet wound in your shoulder."  
  
Heero looked down. "Aa," he nodded.   
  
Quatre sighed. "I'll piece you up. You really should   
take better care, Heero." /Really. I don't want anyone   
to get hurt. So strange. I genuinely care about people,   
no matter how much I hate myself.../  
  
The Japanese pilot grunted, and Quatre took that as a   
yes. Actually, he probably would have taken no as a yes,   
but that's beside the point. The blonde boy rummaged   
around in the closet, and with a muffled "Ah hah!" he   
came out with a battered-looking first-aid kit. He   
proceeded to wrap layer after gauzy layer around   
Heero's abdomen, and then extracted the bullet. After   
cleaning up, he noticed the extreme weariness in the   
other boy's eyes.   
  
"Heero, get some sleep, then some food. I mean it.   
I'll have your Gundam taken care of." Heero opened his   
mouth to respond, but Quatre cut him off in mid syllable.   
"No. Don't argue." Heero shrugged, and plodded to a vacant   
room.   
  
"Yo Q-man, what should I do now?" Duo called from the   
kitchen.   
  
Quatre sweatdropped. "Hang on," he yelled.   
  
After Quatre had told Duo to order pizza, a knock   
sounded. Duo was still chatting with the pizza guy   
on the phone, but glanced a Quatre, and raised his   
eyebrow.   
  
Quatre nodded. He opened the door a crack, then   
flung it open all the way. "Trowa!"   
  
"..." was Trowa's response. Duo smiled, and started   
up the conversation once more with the now-exasperated   
pizza guy.   
  
Quatre checked over the taller pilot, making sure   
there were no wounds. Satisfied, he showed Trowa a   
room, adding, "Get some rest."   
  
He walked back to the kitchen/living room, and sat   
down on the couch with a sigh. He held his head in   
his hands, and laid back even more.   
  
"Quatre." What?! Quatre started at the sound of   
an American pilot's voice so close. "What's wrong?"   
  
Quatre shook his head, and smiled. "Nothing,   
Duo-kun, why do you ask?"   
  
Duo smirked darkly. "Quatre, I didn't survive   
in L2 for nothing. Reading faces comes in handy,   
especially such a well-masked one as yours."   
  
"Duo..."   
  
Duo shrugged lightly, flipping his braid over   
his shoulder. "Let him go, Quatre. Let him go,"   
The Deathsycthe pilot smiled gently, and stroked   
Quatre's hair lightly before letting it drop away.   
  
"I don't know what you're talking about." The blonde   
Arab said softly, flinching away. He gazed at Duo with   
haunted eyes. /Why does he care, anyway?/   
  
"Quatre." Dou's low alto became firm. "Quit beating   
yourself up over him. Even if... you disagreed on some   
things... you are still his son. He forgives you, Quatre."   
  
"How do you know?" Quatre asked, his voice light as   
a fleeting breeze.   
  
"Who couldn't forgive you for wanting to protect   
your people, your family? Quatre, you have more of   
a soul then any of us. We need you, and we're your..."   
Duo chuckled, as if the word meant felt strange on his   
tounge, "friends." He drew the small pilot into a loose   
embrace, and Quatre shuddered. /Iria... used to hold me  
like this.../  
  
They stood there for what could have been an hour, or 3, or   
5 minutes, or any certain length of time. For neither noticed   
or cared.   
  
Then the Arab pulled away, and Duo smiled. "I think that   
a certain banged boy wanted to tell you something as well."   
The American's lips turned up into a warm smile. "G'night."   
He turned before Quatre could argue.   
  
  
  
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That sounded almost 2x4-ish, though thta wasn't my intent.   
*shrug*  
  
-Kalli  



End file.
